Memory's Past
by igetamnesia
Summary: Harry hasn't seen or spoken to Hermione in eleven years. Now that he's retired, he's found himself tangled in Hermione's new life.
1. Reunions and Old Books

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Chapter One

It was time. Time to retire; to move on. He'd been doing this---fighting evil---since he was born. He was nearing thirty, and was thoroughly exhausted. Too many scars lettered his body---the most noticeable, a lightning bolt, blemished his forehead.

He'd turned in his badge, and bought a small cottage on the outskirts of London. The cottage was made unplottable with dozens of wards. even eleven years after his defeat of Voldemort, his fame haunted him. Girls followed him around like he was the biggest thing since the Beatles. Each year it had died down a bit, but he still got the occasional pair of knickers in the post. There were also a few leftover Voldemort supports who wanted Harry dead.

After Hogwarts, Harry regrettably lost touch with his friends. Ron had died in seventh year (kidnapped, and then killed by Voldemort himself). Harry was depressed after that, and did his 'push-people-away' bit, resulting in a falling out with Hermione. Their friendship was strained after that, and never quite recovered. Thus, that resulted in them not keeping in touch. The last Harry'd heard (via the _Daily Prophet_), Hermione had married a wealthy American muggle by the name of Malcolm Foxworth. After that, Harry canceled his _Daily Prophet_ subscription.

/

"Argh!" Harry yelled, banging his head against the mahogany coffee table near the living room fireplace. He'd fallen asleep on the floor reading. He'd woken up from a dream, no, a nightmare. One that hadn't plagued him in over five ears. It had Hermione---being tortured to the point of insanity. And _crucio_ wasn't even close to the worst of it. Harry shivered.

Getting up, he put on a fresh t-shirt and jeans. He jammed a cap on his head and started for Diagon Alley. Hedwig had died a few years previously, and Harry hadn't had the time to buy a new owl. (he also knew in his heart that no owl would ever replace Hedwig.)

Pushing open the door to the Magical Menagerie, Harry had to cover his ears. The animals were all being rather loud---screeches and hisses filled the place. Harry moseyed over to the owl section of the store, and peered into some cages. None of them stood out like Hedwig had. Sighing, Harry headed toward the door.

"OW!" he exclaimed as something ran into him. It was a little boy with curly, flaxen blond hair and periwinkle blue eyes.

"Sorry, sir...I'm just 'cited 'cause my mum said I could buy a _cat_!" he said in almost a whisper, clearly scared of Harry. And before Harry could reassure the boy that he didn't mind being trampled on, the kid had shot over to the cat bin. Chuckling, Harry opened the door and walked outside.

Memory's Past was the sign directly across the street from the Magical Menagerie. "Book Shoppe" was underneath. Over the years, Harry hadn't had the time for a girlfriend, nor did he want to put anyone in danger by being associated with him. So he had taken up books. Frequently he thought that they made better companions that some humans.

The store was very musty, although it had a 'new feel to it. Dust particles danced in the sunlight streaming in from the front window.

THUMP. (thumpthumpthumpthump.)

Startled, Harry whipped his head around to the source of the noise. A shelf was turned over and a cloud of dust rained down. Books littered the floor every which way. "Ahhh, Carrie! Not _again_! You need to be more careful down here. Get upstairs, NOW!" Harry blinked. He knew that voice. That bossy, yet melodic voice that had scolded him throughout his Hogwarts career. The girl he had dreams about, even now. "_Hermione_" he whispered breathlessly, as she came out from a back room to clean up the books Carrie had spilled.

For the first time, Harry noticed a little girl with long, wavy flaxen blond hair sprawled on the floor near the upturned shelf. As Hermione walked into the room, the girl---Carrie---jumped up and scurried to a staircase leading upstairs. Hermione sighed and bent down over the books, gathering them in her arms. Her long hair formed a curtain over her face, so she couldn't see who was in her shop. "I'll be with you in just a sec," she chuckled softly, "my daughter...I swear, it's a hobby of hers, messing up my store..."

Harry blinked. Daughter? Store? Daughter...well, she had gotten married. It made since she would have kids. But Harry felt almost...disappointed? Jealous? He wasn't entirely sure. Shaking himself out of the trance, he focused back on the present. Hermione had finished shelving books and turned to face him.

"Can I help you find something?" she asked, not recognizing him. It _had_ been almost eleven years. His face and body had matured, mostly from the stress of war and fighting crime. He was no longer the malnourished, scrawny boy of his youth. His hair was also longer now, being just above his shoulders. The glasses he now wore were rimless instead of the wired ones he wore as a child.

"Hmm, I dunno. Can you?" he replied cheekily, correcting her grammar.

"Harry Potter, is that you?" she ran over to him, stopped, looking as though she was about to hug him. Instead, she reached her hand back and slapped him right across the face.


	2. The Man Who Missed Out

**Chapter 2**

"Argh! Gods, Hermione, what the bloody hell was that for?" Harry yelled, rubbing his cheek tenderly where Hermione had slapped him.

Breathing heavily, seething with anger, "10---years---not---one---bloody---owl---you---BASTARD!" she spun around and ran toward the stairs.

"Hermione! HERMIONE, WAIT, DAMMIT!" screamed Harry as he charged up after her. He could sense the wards Hermione had put up here, but Harry had a unique talent of being able to break through even the strongest of wards. Choked sobbing sounds were coming from the room on his left. Gently, he rapped on the door. "Hermione?" he asked softly,"I'm coming in." He slowly inched open the door. Walking over to the bed she was lying on, Harry sighed. He sat down and tucked a loose piece of hair behind Hermione's ear as her tears began to cease. She looked up and glared at him.

"I hate you," she hissed, "get _out_."

Harry felt his stomach drop. Hate? Nononono. _Keep your cool, Potter. She's being rash._ "You don't hate me, Hermione."

"Yes, actually, I do."

"No, you don't. And if you didn't _really_ want me here, we both know you'd be able to keep me out."

"Just...just please leave me alone, Harry," she whispered hoarsley. Harry nodded and stood up.

Walking back down the stairs, the litle boy from the Magical Menagerie was entering the bookstore. He apprently hadn't got a cat like he had wanted, for there were none in sight. He eyed Harry curiously. "Why were you upstairs? Thats _my_ house. I'm telling mum!" As the boy darted upstairs, Harry only had a few brief seconds to realize how much he looked like Hermione's daughter, Carrie. _Twins?_ Harry asked himself as he apparated back home.

Taking a bag of chips off the top of his fridge, Harry walked to his room and plopped down on his bed. Harry flipped through the channels of his TV as he munched on the chips. "Dammit! Nothing is on." he threw the remote against the wall and grunted. His day sucked, and he was thoroughly screwed. He wished he had a time-turner to go back ten years and do things over. It was too late. Hermione was married, and she had kids. _Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, great-Voldemort-vanquisher, the man-who-missed-out-on-the-best-girl-ever._

Harry had fallen asleep. He'd been doing that a lot lately. A gentle rapping on the door had woken him up. The wards around his house kept everyone out except for...

Hermione. They hadn't spoken in eleven ears, but she was still the only person he trusted with his life.

He could feel her pesecense in the room as she opened the door. "Harry. Look, I'm sorry. I've had loads of n my mind lately, and seeing you made me snap...with the divorce and the kids and the shop, I'm just exhausted..."

"Wait, divorce?" Harry inturrpted.

"Divorce, escaping my own private hell, whatever you want to call it." she said bitterly.

"Care to tell me what happened? The _Prophet_ made it seem like you were helpless in love with a wonderful, handsome, rich muggle; any woman's dream. A fairytale ending."

"Ha, bloody, ha. I thought that, too. For the first year or so, anyway. But after the twins were born, Mal changed. The twins were so small when they were born...and then as they got older, they always seemed to have whatever cold was going around. Malcoln is a person who despises weakness, so he basically shunned Carrie & Cory, viewing them as inadequate and pathetic," her voice trembled, "I became a single mother in the most important ways, and had to quit my job. Eventually he turned on me...saying I was 'coddling his children, making them even weaker' among other things. Each passing year he seemed to get colder and more ruthless. When he gave me this---"Hermione rolled up the sleeve of her blouse, revealing a jagged scar that ran from her wrist to her elbow, "I finally came to my senses and left. Eventually I opened the bookstore, and here we are. Are you happy now, Harry? Now that you're not _in the dark?_" Harry looked up at her and noticed tears spilling from her eyes.

On an impulse, he reached over and embraced her, kissing the top of her head.


	3. Upside Down

**Chapter 3**

Harry made a point of visiting Hermione's bookstore at least two times a week. There was always a roaring fire and big squashy chairs for any customers that wished to read. Although he liked to read, while he was there he rarely got any reading done. He had taken to just sitting there, pretending to read, when really what he was doing was watching Hermione. _Like a stalker. **No, no---you just want to see her...**_ Hermione had changed since Hogwarts. Her hair was tamer, but it was still thick and wavy. She had gained weight, but now she was filled out in all the right places and looked great. Time had made her even more beautiful.

"Harry James Potter! You've been in here every day this week. You don't like books! So why are you still here?" 

He chuckled. Actually _chuckled_. How infuriating.

"Hermione, how do you know I don't like to read? People change. It's been eleven years since Hogwarts. _I've_ changed. Didn't you notice the bookshelf full of books in my room?"

She hadn't. "Of course I did! But that doesn't mean you actually read them. Loads of people buy books for...for show, or whatever. To give the appearance that they read."

"Hermione, you probably know better than anyone that when one's lonely, books can help to fill that hole. I like reading. Is that really so hard for you to wrap your mind around?"

"In school you never---"

"Yes, I still don't. I read, but not nonfiction like you. I didn't in school...but back then I had quidditch and homework and the DA and worrying about Voldemort. I took it up around when I started auror training."

Okay. That made sense. Maybe. But he'd been reading the same book all week. And he wasn't even halfway through it. "Fine. You like reading. But you have been reading the same damn book all week. And...and, it's upside down!" Harry hurry up and flipped the book over.

"I---it's not upside down," he stammered weakly.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "What have you really been doing here all week?" she walked over and sat in the armchair next to him. Reaching over to squeeze his hand, "I won't get mad, I swear. Am I in danger? Wanted by the ministry? Blast, I knew I shouldn't have blown up that building the other day...what was I thinking!"

"Haha, you're funny," he said dryly, "Nothing so dramatic..." he suddenly stoop up and sprinted toward the door. "I guess I'll be going---"

"Oh, no you don't! _Impedimenta_" she yelled, freezing Harry in his tracks. "You're going to tell me what's going on, Harry James Potter!"

Glaring at her, "You can't make me," he taunted. _Ohhh, he's such a child...he makes me so mad..._ "Yes, you are. Right. Now." The jinx was wearing off and Harry was showing signs of fleeing again. "Harry, seriously. Just _tell me_."

He finally relented and mumbled, "wanendtimwioupeyoudonthingker".

"What's that? Harry, don't mumble."

"Gah! I---ah, I said 'I wanted to spend more time around you and I hope you don't think I'm a stalker.' There, happy? I'll be going now. Don't worry, I won't bother you again." Finally, the curse had worn off and Harry shot out the door.

Hermione groaned and started after him. "Harry! HARRY, wait! I don't care! Just wait, dammit!" but he had already rounded the corner and apparated. A group of old witches had stopped their conversation and were staring at her, mouths agape. "What? What are you looking at?" Hermione snapped, and then stormed back into her store.

_Ugh._ He was such an idiot. Him and his half-brained ideas. They always blew up in his face, so why bother even trying? He opened the door he was standing outside of. Oh, look. The _Three Broomsticks_. Harry walked over to a corner table feeling he needed seclusion at the moment. As he sat down, e conjured a cap and placed it roughly on his head, attempting to hide his face in shadow. (those damn fangirls were everywhere...)

"Ah, Mr. Potter, the usual?" asked Madam Rosmerta. Harry hadn't noticed that she'd walked over to his table. Over the years, the two had become close. She often listened to his rants while he got drunk. He was a depressing drunk, so Harry often had problems to complain about to Rosmerta. She always listened quietly, nodding in all the appropriate places and offering advice and support.

"Better make it fire whiskey, Rose," he sighed and glowered at the table. Rosmerta returned a few moments later with a large mug of fire whiskey. "Sheryl, I'm taking five. You takeover," she yelled to the young girl that she employed. Rosmerta pulled out the chair across from Harry and sat down.

"It's her again, isn't it?" She was, of course, referring to Hermione. Hermione was frequently the subject of Harry's woes. Harry didn't remember half of what he'd told her in the past, for he'd been too pissed to recall. But it was always _her_. It started directly out of Hogwarts. He didn't want to hurt their already fragmented (and getting worse by the day) friendship. And then it turned to rage and jealousy over Hermione's husband. Eventually that turned into plain old pining and desire. In the past week, however, it'd been just...indecisiveness. Should he tell Hermione that he'd been secretly in love with her since he was seventeen? Or just continue to pine and be miserable? Of course, the former was the more appealing option but... he was a coward. What happened to the old Gryffindor courage? _It's all used up, from Voldemort and Death Eaters and all the other bad guys..._ No, no. Bravery was something that sticks---it's an enduring quality! You still have it, you do!

He groaned. "Of course it's her. I told her...well, not everything. Hardly anything, actually. But now, I'm sure she thinks I'm a stalker and never wants to see me again," he took a swig of whiskey and moaned. "I'm so stupid."

"Of course you are, dear. That's what make you, _you_. But you need to pull yourself together. From what you've told me about Hermione...well, you two have been through enough for her not to hate you or think you're a stalker. She's a smart girl, she knows you're a good intentioned guy. You _were_ her best friend for seven years, after all. So...just don't give up hope, Harry," she gently brushed her hand on his cheek and stood up. "It'll all work out. You'll see."


	4. Beginnings

Chapter 4

Harry Potter was an idiot. Not only was he an idiot, but he was terrible when it came to displaying affection, and was even worse when it came to girls. She knew this. She'd known this since she first noticed Harry fancied Cho Chang in third year. It had taken him almost two years to finally go out with Cho. Hermione was usually quite observant when it came to Harry. But, after eleven years of not seeing the man, she was not as in sync with his emotions. She felt like kicking herself.

And the worst part of the whole situation was that she couldn't even work out her own feelings toward Harry. She knew that the old friendship was coming back. But...did she feel more than friendship towards him? Were _all_ of the old feelings for Harry coming back? Back at Hogwarts, she had liked Harry. But after 'the row', she was heartbroken and lonely. The next two years, her feelings for Harry had never wavered----until she'd met Mal. Malcolm Foxworth----charming, brave, handsome Mal that had reminded her of Harry in so many ways. He had swept her off her feet, and her torch for Harry had finally gone out. But, the difference between Mal and Harry was that...well, Harry would never have hurt her as Malcolm had. Her eyes began to well up with tears and she glanced down at her scarred forearm and frowned. No, Harry would never be the brute of a man Malcolm Foxworth had been.

"Mum," a small hand grasped her arm, causing her to jump. "Mum, come read me and Cory a story!"

"Sure, Carrie," Hermione smiled, "Run along, I'll be right there." Walking down the hallway toward the twin's room, Hermione suddenly stopped. Sighing, she looked up at the pictures that hung on the wall. Most were of Carrie and Cory---birthdays, vacations, and other random photos. Then there were two others. One was of her, Harry, and Ron. It was taken sometime in 3rd year after a Quidditch match. Harry was in the middle, grinning widely and caked in mud. Ron was on his left, with his arm around Harry. Hermione on the right had a grin matching Harry's, and was excitedly pulling Harry into a one-armed hug. Another photo was just of Harry and Hermione. They were sitting on the hearthrug of the Gryffindor common room, laughing and talking very animatedly. As she looked at the photo she realized...yes. Yes, she might actually want to start a relationship with Harry.

"Muuuum, hurry up!" screeched the voice of Carrie, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts once again.

"Carrieeee," Hermione mimicked playfully, "What have _I_ told you about patience?" She entered the bedroom and sat on her son's bed. "So, what do you want me to read tonight?"

"Tell us the one about Harry Potter," Cory said, smiling. Ah, yes. The story about the mythical Harry Potter and his horrific adventures. She wondered how Cory would react when he found out his mum used to be best friends with 'the Chosen One', and that she was very possibly going to start dating him.

"Okay," said Hermione, "where should I start?" Harry Potter's story was a favorite of both Carrie and Cory; they'd heard the complete thing at least a dozen times since they were born.

"The beginning," Carrie demanded with a shriek of excitement.

Ten minutes into the story, the twins were both asleep. Carrie had moved onto her brother's bed, and then were both curled up together, almost protectively. Hermione smiled and adjusted their blanket as she stood up, tucking them in snugly.

As Hermione fell asleep that night, she knew that tomorrow would be the day.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the lack of updates! Also sorry for the shortness that is this chapter. 

I think I'm going to do one more chapter to this story, and that's going to be it. I have many other things brewing in my head at the moment. cackle


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